“You will stay in your room,” said he, unmoved by her words, “until I send for you in the morning.”
“I see. I am to consider myself in custody. And pray, who is to be my gaoler? Not Miss Pembury. I won’t be watched by that girl. I suppose now that you are going to get rid of me, you will arrange for her to stay here.”
Sir Robert made no answer. But Jack struck in, anxious not to have Rhoda’s influence to combat as well as that of the baronet. Although he had failed to make his peace with her that evening, he knew that she had not, so far, told the worst that she had to tell, and it was worth an effort to try to keep her mouth shut, if only on that affair of ten years ago to which, as he knew, she had a clue.
So he suddenly struck into the conversation with an appearance of great magnanimity.
“Miss Pembury must not go away. She doesn’t like me, I know, but she is a good woman and she can be trusted. If you have to quarrel with me, Sir Robert, I hope you won’t vent your displeasure on either of the ladies. Sarah has done wrong, and I did worse wrong in helping her over the picture. I’m sorry and I’m ashamed. I know nothing can excuse her or me. Send me away, but don’t quarrel with her. Forgive her. She has never done anything to offend you till now, and Miss Pembury will take her part, I’m sure. I’ll go away to-night, if you like, on condition you let me take all the blame. Indeed I ought to do so.”
This magnanimity did not appear greatly to impress Sir Robert. The terrible doubts which assailed him, indeed, made all other considerations seem of minor importance.
But this address, if it did not impress the baronet, had its effect upon Lady Sarah. She was quick to jump to the conclusion that she was to take her cue from Jack, and to keep “in” with Rhoda, if she could. So she said:
“Jack is right, Robert. You must keep Miss Pembury, if only for Caryl’s sake. As for poor me, I don’t count, do I, now? But at least if you are going to send me away, let me have a talk with Rhoda first. Perhaps I can explain things to her better than to you, and if she believes me, why, I suppose you will.”
Sir Robert frowned. He did not like the tone which he noted in his wife’s speech, through which there seemed to run an undercurrent of sarcasm which offended and distressed him.
Lady Sarah, having made up her mind what to do, was already, in her impulsive fashion, on the way to carry it out.